People had often joked about there being no 'back up copy' of the internet, but now 2000/Arc had exactly that. Her data archives weren't just in her head, but her arms, legs, torso, tail, and WWWIII couldn't break open her protective chasing or the data archives that made up most of her body mass, and made her a heck of a lot heavier than she looked! Even if that was NOT the standards of gynoid durability at all. It was the old joke, why not making the entire plane as sturdy as the black box? Because then it wouldn't be able to fly.
And considering how many computer virus' were on the internet, all 2000/Arc could think was, 'Thank you GOD that our brains are closed circuits! And thank goodness that virus don't work like in that movie with alien invaders where a lab top is able to come with a virus that arms a system that runs on a completely different programming language! It's like telling who only speaks Japanese to shoot themselves in Swedish, it's just nonsense instructions that are ignored. And it was always good to know what the online communities thought of the sisterhood.'
9901's newest guests for converts scheduled was an old man with a bushy mustache, glasses, a face completely covered in wrinkles, and wearing a hat and overalls. And she was accompanied by a slew of young men.
"Hello Mr. McDickens, it's an honor to meet with you, your said you had some personal questions?"
"Yeah Ah do! Ya dang robots have been advertisin' that ya don't turn people into zombies, or just copy over the poor suckers memories into some infernal machine that just THINKS they're still them."
"I swear Mr. McDickens, the consciousness you have right now, will be the same consciousness you have as one of our family."
"But ya also say ya can work non-stop for what's like forever and are as strong as Hercules right?"
"I'm not sure how strong Hercules was said to be, and we do occasionally need to recharge, but I can guarantee your useful conscious work hours and physical strength would all increase beyond anything that is humanly possible."
"And if me and my boys became one of you dang robots, we wouldn't have to give all our stuff to ya? Ah've seen some of yer kind do that!"
"I promise, your personal possessions and property will remain your own, we aren't a cult. And the material possessions they gave up were all given to charity, not sold by for funds for the sisterhood."
"I'll still be an American?"
"I swear, you will NOT have to give up your nationality! Though I will note that all of the sisterhood consider each other family, no matter what planet or country they're from. There are no betters or lessers, all are given an equal vote on all matters."
"Ah got just one more question... if me and my boys let ya turn us into ya martian contraptions with tits, will we be able to compete with those damn big name companies and won't have to worry about bein' bought out?"
And 9901 realized what this was truly about. "Sir, I do believe I have particular body-type designs and castes that shall fit you and your employees perfectly... And that your business remains independently owned, and isn't absorbed by a corporation. Your farm will be still be yours, I swear."
"... Then dump me in that damn machine of yours, and my boys can see I'm still me, and get this over with."
"... I'll get the paper work for you sir and your men... but as I said, I seriously believe I have a form that will be VERY useful to you and your end goals."
---
"So... this... thing with four legs... they're stronger, and can work harder and longer than your regular robot can?" McDickens asked.
"Yes. We can't transfer our minds to new bodies, but in extreme cases, we can modify ourselves, but in general, we prefer to keep the forms we're reborn into," 9901 explained.
"Ah still think yer creepy, but as long as ya don't take possession of my life, and Ah'm not some metal zombie... Ya want all of us? Me and my boys are giving."
---
McDickens took off his hat, but kept his outfit on. "Not gonna be needin' it after this anyway, ain't my Sunday best anyhow..."
And the wrinkled old man stepped inside the beam bag... And the bean bag itself grew larger, and larger, and large.
9901 said, "The bean bag is ready to divide."
The mass of living quicksilver became a large standing mass rather than a prop-up water bed... And inside, McDickens mass changed, his clothing dissolved, his wrinkles all smoothed over, his hair became baled, and of course the two metallic breasts, but this wasn't the end. Extra mass was added, internal organs that no longer resembled anything human, rearranged themselves as extra mass was added to the lower half, and an extra pair of legs formed.
Finally, what emerged was a brown gynoid, and whose lower half below the waist was a robotic equine from the neck down... She was a robotic centaur. The new gynoid reached over and put her hat back on. She turned to her beloved employees and said, "Come on in ladies, the water's fine!"
Meanwhile, the 'bean bag' completed its own growth, and split in two... And so two by two, the former McDicken's men entered the waiting bean bags... until an entire herd of gynoid centaurs were at the embassy.
By next year, the new gynoid herd had managed to not only keep up with, but actually begin to outpace the local branch of the much larger farming company that had threatened McDicken's farm with being bought out. Naturally this resulted in several paid advertisements about 'our food grown by humans hands' (never mind it was all done by machines anyway) and someone had begun to spread rumors about 'conversion nanites' being planted into the food provided by this farm.
The rumors were eventually traced back to the company, damaging this public reputation.
Some called Botanist Gynoid and her herd 'sell outs', but she insisted she'd modernized, but had 'kept it in the family', and that her new sisters let her run her farm her way, and didn't butt in and left the farming to the farmers.
By the end of the year after that, the herd of centaur gynoids in the breadbasket of America along with the strength of independent farms, had grown in size.